The Magnificent Tree
by Amatara
Summary: There's no such thing as a routine assignment. Dale Cooper and Albert Rosenfield get stuck in a car in rather unusual circumstances; there is also a tree involved. Pre-canon, mostly fluff/humor, with a sprinkling of angst and a touch of h/c.


**Author's Notes:**  
- Contains a few nods to 'My Life, My Tapes', but nothing that makes having read the novel essential.  
- The title refers to a song by Hooverphonic, a band from my country that is, imho, well worth knowing.

* * *

.

.

Diane, once again, the first lesson I ever learned at the Bureau – there is no such thing as an easy case – finds itself confirmed. It's a little over midnight, and I am leaving the premises of an establishment known as 'Little Joe's Club'. The owner, who is neither called Joe nor could by any norms be considered little, has been under suspicion of drug trafficking for several months now. Conclusive proof still remains to be found.

As Agent Earle, who would normally be here with me, is stuck on another case, I asked for Dr. Albert Rosenfield to accompany me instead. He has joined me on a number of occasions as per my request, and has shown to possess both a sharp mind and admirable courage under fire. He is also a good man, though admittedly often cynical, rude and difficult to please. Recently we have struck up something that might be referred to as a friendship, and I must say I find his extreme honesty – which many of his colleagues seem to think unpleasant – quite refreshing. Even touching, at times.

The evening, so far, has not been very productive. Little Joe's Club's owner proved entirely as uncooperative, coarse and, in Albert's words, bird-brained as we had feared him to be. He certainly did not seem like the mastermind of a large criminal operation. However, Albert shares my opinion that he _is_ involved, and might be our way to uncover the truth. Our talk to him was quite short, and ended somewhat more abruptly than I intended. Believe Albert still has a thing or two to learn about the subtleties of field assignments.

We stayed inside for another hour or so. Ordered a drink to appear less conspicuous, then blended in with the guests to observe the goings-on. Whoever Joe might be, he mixes a mean daiquiri. Albert was somewhat less lyrical about the scotch. None of this taught us much, however, so we are going to head back in a few minutes. Am just waiting for Albert to get back from a quick smoke break – ah. There he is.

To be honest, Diane, I'll be glad to get into the car. I don't suppose a single daiquiri can have much of a punch, so I suspect it's just lack of sleep catching up with me. Expect a stiff night-time drive with the windows down will do us both a world of good.

.

.

Write a report, they said. Just write down everything that happened – no sweat, we'll handle it from there.

Sure. In your dreams, guys.

So, Cooper insisted on driving – claims it's therapeutic or something like that – and I sure as hell wasn't about to protest. Of course, he insisted on taking the scenic route back; avoid the freeways, take us through a patch of woods instead. Coop's a sucker for woods, don't ask me why. But it all looked pretty simple on the map, and anyway he _was_ driving, so I thought, why the hell not? I'd just close my eyes and get some shut-eye while he had his little heart-to-heart with the wilderness. No reason why we couldn't _both_ be happy. Or so I thought. Halleluja for irony, huh?

I was jolted awake by him slamming the brakes shut. Was fully prepared for a crash and screech of metal, but when I got my wits together we were alone on a backwater road in the middle of nowhere, pulse pounding in my ears. I sputtered. "Cooper, are you _insane_? What – "

He had his eyes shut, squeezing the wheel the way my granddad used to do when throttling a rabbit for Sunday lunch. That, and he was white enough we could've put a battery in him and used him for a flashlight.

"I'm sorry, Albert," he whispered, sounding – for once – slightly more normal than he looked. Not by much, though. "I, ah – I'm having some trouble –" Pent-up breath. "My vision just blurred. And I feel very dizzy."

Oh, great. Just – fucking – great, and of course he'd be doing that announcement in the same tone a regular guy'd use to order a pack of smokes. "Exactly _how_ much did you drink?" I snapped, but of course that was rhetorical. He'd had one glass, that was it. Didn't even finish it. He laughed a little and opened his eyes. Pupils dilated, uneven as hell, and –

"Okay, Coop, get your ass out of there. I'm driving." I opened the car door, swung my legs outside.

And almost landed face-down in the mud.

"Albert?" Cooper's voice went up an octave. "Albert, are you –"

Everything was shimmering – the trees, the leaves between my feet. My own _hands_, for God's sake, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say it was like –

_Fuck._

Somehow I got my legs back into the car. "Sonovabitch spiked our drinks. God _dammit_–" Rubbed my eyes trying to get my vision to clear, but I might as well have been doing the rain dance for all the good that did me. "We're not going anywhere fast, Cooper. At least not if we don't wanna end up in a ditch beside the road. Fuck, I'm– _Fuck._" And if I wasn't careful I'd be talking myself right into a panic trip, too. That'd be the cake. "Cooper?" I elbowed him. "Cooper, we gotta set some rules here, okay? No leaving the car till this is over. You hear me? No leaving –"

.

.

Diane, have just stepped outside, my bladder having triumphed over other arguments. Despite my initial concern to leave the car, I am now finding all trepidation has left me. Am standing beneath a large, backlit, grayish-purple tree, that is not simply beautiful, but also serves as a sturdy and much-appreciated support. I would identify it as a willow, but for the fact that its branches change shape every few seconds, making an absolute statement quite difficult. In fact, I would go so far as to say –

Hold on, Diane, I need a moment.

Diane, what I believed to be a tree is in fact a huge sea-snake, swaying gently in the breeze. I am unsure how I could have mistaken it for anything less than a living creature. Leaning against it, my hands have left prints on its skin, and each of them is now glowing with a strobing light. In fact, the swaying is not quite so gentle now, and there seems to be a sound, a distant calling…

No, that is Albert, shouting for me from inside the car. He sounds angry. The snake seems unhappy about this, and of course I sympathize. Am, however, beginning to feel distinctly seasick.

Albert has left the car and tried to take me back inside. Believe I have just thrown up on his suit jacket, possibly mine as well. Am doing much better sitting down, safely away from the sea snake. Albert seems less fortunate, though I should mention he looks a perfectly stunning shade of green.

No – Albert? Albert, I need to stay here. Albert, the snake –

.

.

I got him back in, eventually. Not sure how I managed, what with him babbling on about mythical sea creatures transformed into trees, and my own brain oozing out through my ears. But then he was in the car, and so was I, though I really could have done without the interlude. In the grand scheme of things, I guess we're about even. He upchucked on my jacket, then I puked against his tree. He seemed pretty upset about that, but then I was, too, so again – even.

Putting him in the back seat was easier than in the front – less precision involved – so that's what I did. Would've groped my way back to the passenger side, except I couldn't for the life of me recall which direction that was in. In the end, I wrestled out of my jacket somehow, then shoved Cooper over and crawled in next to him. No – first crawled in, _then_ shoved him over, most likely, the state I was in. By then it had started to rain, the kind of not-sure-I-want-to-drizzle that was less like actual rain than just getting wet from all sides at once. Pattering across the roof like spider legs, and I swear to hell I haven't been freaked out by spiders since I was six, I haven't, but _this_ –

I snapped out of it with Cooper's hands on my face, feeling inches away from a stroke or a cardiac arrest or whatever other thing that kills you fast while you aren't looking. For a second I was sure my lungs had expanded outside of me, leaking into the air like a big, white, heaving blob of a thing. Then I realized it was just the fog of my own breath in the cold. _Fuck. _Great display of self-control, Rosenfield, just fucking great.

I must have been freaking pretty bad, because Cooper was shushing me, stroking the side of my head like I was some kind of prize pet or something. It felt, to be honest, pretty damn wonderful.

"Albert, I won't lie to you. There is something outside, but it can't get to us. Trust me." Soft and serious, but still, I realized distantly, talking nonsense, which was even weirder than the complete spacing out from before. Or maybe that was just me – I wasn't exactly Mister Sensible myself at the time.

His eyes were so huge. Dark gold against white, and, I could swear right then, the most beautiful thing I'd seen in my life. I just stared like an idiot and let them pull me in, and then somehow, in all of the craziness, I slept.

.

.

Diane, glad to report I'm feeling slightly more like myself at present. Still not sure what 'myself' means, though, or if the clarity will last.

Considered briefly to attempt driving, but gave up after six minutes of struggling to unlock the door. Had a brief, but frighteningly intense, episode where I believed the door-handle had turned into a disembodied hand, which then proceeded to throttle me. It turned out it was simply my tie, which got tangled between my arm and Albert's shoulder. Surprisingly, this did not reassure me in the slightest, and I removed the tie as soon as I was able.

Albert looks calmer as well. It took me a while to convince him we weren't in any immediate danger, though I tried several techniques to distract him. Even suggested a game of Truth or Dare, with typical questions, as I was once told, the likes of 'Who was the first person you kissed' and 'Tell me your most embarrassing moment'. Perhaps not surprisingly, Albert wasn't much of a fan. I'm not sure if he's actually sleeping, but if he is, he's going to have a hell of a backache when he wakes up.  
Am saving the flashlight to make sure the batteries last, should we need them. To be honest, Diane, I would very much like to have some more light in here. A candle would be ideal. Unfortunately, I never saw the need to keep candles in the car trunk. Remind me to remedy this next time I go shopping for supplies. I'm aware it's silly to attribute moods to light and darkness, but right now, the absence of light is curiously dispiriting – I will not say "depressing", because depression is, of course, far more profound than this. I am not depressed, simply – wistful.

I remember a night when the electricity was out, and Mum started lighting candles all over the house. I felt like I was in a different world, a magical one. At least, until Dad came in and accidentally set fire to the rug.

Nights in the woods are very cold, Diane, even sitting in a car while high on illegal substances. Lighting a fire would be wonderful. Lacking that, I will try to get some sleep instead.

.

.

I'm getting too old for this, I God-to-honestly am. Jerked awake with Cooper half-draped across me, a crick in my neck that started to make those yoga lessons he's always going on about sound like a smart idea after all. I had a moment of panic where I swore it wasn't Coop but a black, squirming, birdlike thing, trying to go for my throat – all those nights watching Hitchcock, I always knew they'd come back to haunt me. Then I got my arms around whatever it was, and found myself with a lapful of wide-eyed, muttering Dale Cooper.

"I dreamed, Albert. There was a man, at the door, in a room, trying to get in. I had to wake up, but I couldn't." His voice had that same fevered, trance-like quality from when he was talking to the tree. The kind that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "My mother died, Albert, did you know that? I was fourteen, and she died while dreaming. The doctors said it was her brain, but it was really a dream that she couldn't wake up from. I'm dreaming too, Albert, and I can't wake up, I need to wake – "

Only then did I figure he was crying. Not sobbing or sniffling or anything else conspicuous, but his face was wet and there were tears already drying on his cheeks and I hadn't even _noticed_. Sure it was the drugs, and sure I had an excuse, but he was goddamn _crying_ and all the while I was blinking down at him, feeling like an utter idiot.

I shook him a little, then a little more, and before I realized I was babbling too, trying to catch his attention with the first stupid thing that popped into my mind. "Truth or dare, Coop," I muttered. "Hey. Coop. _Hey_." He didn't answer, but he did stop muttering, so I said again, "Come on, Coop, truth or dare. That's what you wanted, isn't it? Tell me about – about the first time you kissed someone. Or –"

I swear, the guy will never cease to amaze me. He gave a long shudder, then the next second he was awake, just like that. Awake and looking more lucid than I felt. "Albert?" He blinked, slowly. Okay, maybe not _that_ lucid after all. "I was – telling you something. What was I telling you?"

I wanted to sugarcoat it for him, I did, but I didn't know what to say. "You said – you were dreaming, you couldn't wake up. That your mother died in a dream." He gulped, hard, and I hurried, "It's fine, Coop, forget it. Just –"

"She died from a brain aneurysm when I was fourteen." He was staring straight ahead, his eyes glazed. I swear, that moment, if he'd started raving about sea-snakes again, I'd have been ecstatic – no pun intended. Anything else than that tiny, strained tone of his. "She'd been having these dreams for as long as I can remember. Sometimes I have them, too. I never found out what they mean."

"Coop, really, you don't need to –"

"The first person I kissed was a girl named Marie," he cut me off, almost dreamily. "She was also the first girl I saw naked. Strangely, I can't remember a thing about that." Pensive frown, and, like the flip of a switch, there was the old Cooper again, blinking out of those eyes like he'd never been gone. Looking a little woozy, but none the worse for wear.

"What happened to her?" Okay, I'll confess, damn it. I was curious. So sue me.

Faint little smile. "Overdosed on drugs, then shaved her head and converted to Christianity. She wasn't the same since."

"Oh," I said. "Well. That's kind of –"

.

.

Diane, had to step back outside the car for a moment. Had no idea that drugs had this effect on the human metabolism, especially as we haven't drank in several hours now. Albert seems less affected, or else I should bow to his self-control. I could only wish I had a bladder as strong as his.

Am relieved to note that what I earlier perceived to be some kind of sea creature, has now returned to the shape of a rather banal-looking willow tree. A tree which, at present, appears to hold a medium-sized, purple Cheshire cat. It seems the hallucinations have, at least, re-entered the realm of the precedented, which I am taking as a hopeful sign. While I do not think either Albert or I can safely handle the steering wheel yet, we should be able to venture an attempt sometime in the next few hours. Have been feeling quite light-headed, but I assume an empty stomach is to blame. Diane, please remind me to take a two-person packed lunch to all future assignments, plus a thermos of coffee between October and May. A nice chicken sandwich would have gone down perfectly well.

I'll confess, Diane, now that this adventure is drawing to a close, I'm finding myself oddly reluctant to end it. While there are large parts of it that I barely recall, other aspects of it have turned out quite – enlightening. In fact, I am looking forward to picking up the conversation with Albert where we left off.

Now, if you'll excuse me, Diane, I need both of my hands to make my way back to the car. My equilibrium is still somewhat less than ideal.

.

.

God knows I've rebelled back in my day, but never with drugs, and I think I just remembered why. Same reason that I've made it a point never to get wasted in public. I'm the brooding type of drunk, always have been. Not the sort of guy you'd wanna have at your party. Seems with drugs it's the same, because when Cooper came back from his pit stop, I could feel the melancholy creeping up like a case of the hives. Of course I wasn't really expecting him to throw himself back into my lap, but damn, at the time I actually felt sorry for myself. What is it with those claims that crack and acid and the works get you horny, anyway? I sure as hell felt nothing on that front – I was numb more than anything – and Cooper seemed about as aroused as a kitten on Valium. What are the odds, I ask you?

When he said "You still owe me a Truth, Albert," I was sure he'd throw the kissing question right back into my face. Would've suited me right, too. Instead he shifted, grazing my hip in the process – _not_ horny, but it still sent a little shiver down my spine. Licked his lip, looking thoughtful. "Tell me – about your family. What are they like?"

I shot him a glare I hoped was properly withering. "They're – nice," I muttered, because Cooper being Cooper, silence wasn't an option. "Don't see them around too often. I write, occasionally. Have a grandma who even writes back. Apart from that, communication is – " Yeah, _what_, exactly, Rosenfield? Hard? Nonexistent? An exercise in frustration? "Sparse," I grunted.

"Why is that?" He seemed genuinely curious. "Did they… disapprove of your choice of career?"

"Not exactly. More like – differences in philosophy." I went to contemplating my shirt, which was pretty much ruined. There were stains all over – dirt, sweat, the works – that looked like they moved when I turned my head. It was disorienting as hell. "They kept saying I made life too hard on everyone. That I should start seeing the beauty in things instead of the flaws. I tried to tell them that I _did_, that I was just – picky." I broke off, confused. Seems at some point I had stopped just trying to appease him and was actually – gasp – _talking_? "They said to try harder. I said I tried _every second of every fucking day_, and it wasn't enough." Shrug. "Anyway, that was ages ago."

Cooper was watching me, his mouth slightly open. Looking so serious I had to bite my tongue not to burst out laughing. Not that I fucking knew _why_. If I kept absolutely still, I could swear the stains stopped moving, too.

"I was nineteen," I said, and almost giggled. God, I needed to sleep. That, or cry my heart out. "Thought I knew everything. They're decent people, really, they are, but –" I trailed off. Suddenly, my eyes were stinging.

"I'm sure they are, Albert." Cooper's hand rubbed small circles across my arm. "I'm sure they are."

.

.

Diane, seems our adventure has finally reached a conclusion. I got behind the wheel at six-thirty this morning, drove us out of the forest with Albert soundly asleep in the back. Not quite confident about braving the city roads, so I called the Philadelphia office from the first town we passed through. They agreed to have someone pick us up A.S.A.P. A few hours and a full range of tests later we were both put into a taxi, with an order to sleep it off at home.

Seems that we indeed had our drinks spiked – something neither of us had any doubt about. The illegal substance turned out to be a mixture of LSD and an obscure home-made concoction. They told us to call ourselves lucky the effects turned out as mild as they had. I could see from Albert's face he had something to say about that, but surprisingly, he swallowed whatever it was. Believe it will be some time before both he and I have shook off all lingering effects. The bar's owner, I'm sure, was who slipped us the drugs, but of course proving this will not be easy. We did, however, come out of this affair with somewhat more of a lead than when we got in, so I suppose last night was not a complete failure.

I should admit that, strange as the past eight or so hours have been, I think anyone should experience something like it at least once in their lives. I am, of course, not embellishing drug abuse in any way, but the sense of companionship our shared plight brought was, quite frankly, amazing.

Have just recalled something Albert told me while talking about his estranged family. If I'm not mistaken, at some point he said, "I've never been able to hang onto a good thing." There was something in his tone of voice that made me wonder if he meant it in a different context, as well. He sounded upset, so I found myself reluctant to ask.

I phoned Albert to check on him, half an hour or so ago. He sounded very much like his usual, acerbic self. However, when I suggested he join me for dinner tonight, he seemed reluctant to answer. Not sure if I should phone again.

.

.

So, that was it. At some point I must've passed out in the back seat, and when I woke up it was past seven and we were on a Denny's parking lot, waiting for our pickup. At the office, they poked enough holes into us that I'm surprised what liquid they gave us didn't leak right out. Then they bundled us into a cab and gave us the rest of the week off. Not that I'm complaining, mind you.

I just had Cooper on the phone. I was asleep when he called – conked out practically the second I put my head down. He asked me to dinner, if you'll believe it. I was so baffled I didn't say yes or no, just changed the subject, then found some stupid excuse to hang up. Something tells me he'll be calling back. I still haven't figured out what I'm going to say.

There's this conversation that, somehow, got stuck into my head – one of the few lucid ones we had last night. I remember he had his eyes closed, head propped up against the headrest. I was thinking: just ten inches, and his head could be on my shoulder. Then, suddenly, out of the blue, he looked at me and said, "Albert, out of everyone I know, I believe you are the only one I'd trust to be in this position with me."

No idea how I managed to dig up my voice from the puddle of goo that statement turned me into, but I did. "Don't be a sap, Cooper," I told him – something like that. "For starters, how about Earle? You know, your partner. Your _regular_ partner? The one who was supposed to be here with you, if he wasn't off on some wild goose chase? You at least gotta trust –"

"I'm –" Long pause, and if I didn't know any better, I'd have sworn he looked embarrassed. "In most ways, I would trust Windom with my life, but –"

"In _most_ ways?" I rolled my eyes and meant it, too. "Coop, in that case, maybe you should find yourself another partner. I'm just saying."

"I'll keep that in mind, Albert." Softly. And there was something, just something, in his tone of voice that made me wonder –

.

.

FIN


End file.
